I may not have the best dates ever, but at least they're the fastest

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A dater’s nightmare is a blogger’s wet dream

At first, we thought he was joking. It was in the pre-event, wait-awkwardly-in-the-bar period when another female speed dater and I first met THE WEIRDEST MAN I HAVE EVER SPEED DATED. First he asked us our favorite colors, because, you see, “One in a hundred women is a psycho and the psychos always pick purple as their favorite color.”

After we had passed this clever psychological test, he drilled down further on his requirements. He’s looking for a “sparring partner.” You’re thinking that’s an interesting metaphor for marriage? Nope, he meant it literally. He’s a karate guru and he expects his significant other to become a black belt, too. It shouldn’t be too hard, though, because he has such a good training program that he charges 2 MILLION DOLLARS for it. He would also like his woman to bear as much resemblance to Xena the warrior princess as possible– the other woman at the bar had the advantage of long dark hair, but I got the upper hand when I admitted to having played sports and having seen the TV show.

During our speed date, he covered the following additional topics:

Why did your last relationship end? (A previous date had told him that she tried to run her boyfriend over with the car. Props to her for finding an answer as crazy as the questioner, I thought.)

You don’t have kids, pets, or any of that other baggage, do you?

Do you own a bike? (“Yes, but it’s in pretty bad shape,” I said, trying to minimize our compatibility. “I used to be a mechanic!” he countered.)

Do you need a man to complete you? (I need a woman to complete me both physically and emotionally, he said. There goes the possibility of ever enjoying “Jerry Maguire” again, I thought.)

How old are you? (When I said I was 30, he admitted to being 51, but suggested I might appreciate some videos of his younger days when he had “Fabio-like” hair. He now has no hair.)

Despite my attempts to answer every question wrong, he concluded our speed date with the pronouncement that after 51 speed-dating events and 517 women, I was the best prospect. (I later learned that he had told several other women the same thing. Still not sure whether to be relieved or insulted.)

He invited me to a) join him at Potbelly for dinner after the “show” b) call him tomorrow at 8 or c) visit his Web site.

I selected option C and I’d encourage you to do the same. It’s www.numchucks.com Yes, that’s an “m.” He’s an expert in martial arts, not spelling. You can read his plans for a prospective biopic (“a movie script based on an 87 years old version of himself”) or make the $200,000 down payment on the master course. Sadly, though, the Fabio hair is viewable only by paid subscribers.

Now there’s a speed date you won’t ever forget. I had a quick look at his website and I don’t know how you managed to resist the temptation to tear his clothes off there and then (am looking at the pic here, by the way: http://numchucks.com/images/5.jpg) 😉